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Dr. Sam Luce
Blue, AZ
Interview: February 4, 2011
My early years
I am Sam Luce. I was born in June, 1932, in a little place called Mosca, Colorado. My father was born in Ellington, New York in 1901. My mother was born in New Burnside, Illinois in 1905. She met and married my father when they were attending the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago.
I grew up for the first four years in Colorado and then we moved to New Mexico where we lived on the San el Defonzo Indian Reservation. My dad worked for the Indian Service. We stayed with the Indian Service and we lived in Albuquerque and Phoenix. Then my dad became the professor of Electronics and Mathematics at Highland University in Las Vegas, New Mexico. From there he went to the University of Houston in the Department of Electronics. Houston is where I went to medical school. Then we parted ways and he went to work for the Olympic Steamship Company as a geologist electrician locating all of the oil wells out in the Gulf of Mexico, where the big oil spill later occurred. He worked on identifying those oil fields out there.
My grandparents
My father’s father was Joses Luce and he was born around 1868 near Ellington, NY. He married a Hitchcock. She was about 5 years younger than he. She passed away early. I did meet my grandfather who became a farmer, near Ellington. He raised cows, he had a dairy, and he also had a farm where he raised crops and sold them. That’s on my father’s side.
On my mother’s side my Granddad DeWees was a pure-bred Frenchman. His name was Thomas DeWees and he was born in 1872. He worked primarily around the coal mines in Harrisburg, Illinois and he married Maude McMurtry. She was a pure blood, pretty little Irish lady. She was petite but rather a fiery little lady, as some Irish are. Maude was just a wonderful grandma for me.
We came to the Blue
I came into the Blue in 1971, 40 years ago. My wife and I had been practicing medicine in Estes Park, Colorado, and the area continued to grow. Our practice became so demanding that we were looking for a chance to reduce our obligation to our professional lives and take a little more time with raising our three children. So we ventured out and we found the Blue River and we ended up purchasing the Jack Burk ranch. We have enjoyed being Blue River residents immensely from that time until now.
Ranching on the Blue
Our new ranch was 85 acres and included 250 head of cattle. This was more work than we wanted to do so we reduced, you might say to10%. We went down to 25 head. We found that 25 head, when we were out there branding and getting kicked in the face by a yearling steer, was still plenty of work. We raised a pretty good field of corn. We fed our cattle from the pasture, and then raised corn that we added to their feed.
No more cows
Gradually, we have moderated. We find it more fun to go camping than we do to brand calves. We have reduced our stock. When they turned the wolves loose here, a few years back, we were unable to get a calf to stay alive. The wolves always beat us to it. So after several years of running the ‘Blue River Bed and Breakfast’ for the wolves we decided that that wasn’t a very profitable thing to do. So this fall, again after losing three calves to the wolves, we decided to wait for conditions to improve.
The other ranchers and land owners
At the time we came to the Blue in 1971 the families that lived and ranched there were the Kilgores right below us. They had cattle. Below that is the Adair homestead. Their ranch had been subdivided and there were several part time residents that were not involved in the cattle business.
Below them was Ralph Manes who had cattle on his place. Ralph’s health was beginning to fail when I came there. I saw him for various medical problems but his health became such a problem that he sold out to a fella by the name of Chip Ireys . Chip just made it a residential home and got out of the cow business. His neighbor Dick Kerger purchased part of the Manes place and he too got out of the cow business.
Below them was Frank Lyons, who was an old timer in this area. Frank was a wonderful old cowpuncher that had been born down in the Silver City (New Mexico) area and was hired as a cowboy by Hugh McKeen who had raised him. He lived down on the Blue River as a young boy, 13 to 14 years old, out punching cows. Frank eventually moved up the Blue River to the place where he then retired. It now belongs to his wife, Stella’s family. Frank got out of the cow business but he kept several horses and continued to ride a lot. He showed me a lot of country and I really enjoyed Frank Lyons. He was just a terrific old time bronc rider. A real good salt-of-the-earth fella.
Next to him was Bill Quinsler, and Bill had around 150 head of livestock in there. Rose Cosper, who married Charles Coleman, lived there and worked for Bill Quinsler on their place helping him with the cattle. Rose is a descendent of the Cospers who are the original settlers of the Blue River. Tolls Cosper came into the Blue River about 1880 and with him came along Freddie Fritz’s dad, who was called Dutch Fritz. They settled down at the Triple X Ranch. So Rose Cosper is from those original Cospers. Her father died fairly young. He was at the VM & YY Ranch on the Blue. And his brother, Jimmy Cosper had the VT Ranch on down the Blue. The VTs joined together with Freddy Fritz at the Triple X, and they ran about 500 head of cows down in that area.
Above the Cosper place, would be Tooley and Fay Moore and they ran somewhere between 50 and 100 head of cattle when I came here. Tooley and Fay lived there a fair amount of the time and they are old timers in the canyon. Tooley could really tell you some history. It is a shame that those young people got old and passed away before you got your recorder out. He could tell you some stories that were incredible history about when the country was changing from the Apaches, who occupied it by running off the Pueblo Indians, taking their scalps as a momento. Then things changed again as the ranchers came in. Tooley was one of those old time ranchers back in the very early 1900s.
His name, Tooley, is derived from tooley pie which is the Apache word for their homemade beer. It is made from acorns that they put yeast and sugar with and get it fermented. It smells like fresh vomit. If you can hold your nose and drink that stuff long enough to get drunk you are more man than I am. Tooley Moore got his name because he could drink that stuff.
Below Tooley Moore’s place was a place called the Bob Cat place and it is still there. The fella that lived there got into a shooting scrape and shot and killed one of the neighbors over water rights. It was Sonny Snyder’s grandfather that got killed there at the Bob Cat cabin. (See Sonny Snyder’s interview).
Below that place was Slim and Marjory Joy. They had their place many years by the time I came. They had the post office at their ranch. Marjory was the postmistress for many years. Slim managed to sit out there on an overturned five-gallon bucket cracking walnuts for the squirrels. Outside of that he ran cabins for the tourists. He had a lodge that was sort of a hunting lodge. He had mostly horses that he rented out, and took out hunters. I am not aware that he was in the cow punching business.
Then below his place was Gene and Betty Gaddy. They had retired from Phelps Dodge Mining business. Gene had come to the Blue back in the late 1920s. He joined the Civil Conservation Corp and was one of the original CCC boys that built roads on the Blue River and did a lot of trail work too. Gene, besides being a stalwart hard worker in our community, was a real good guitar player and singer. He sang songs and played the guitar and I’d play fiddle or mandolin or something with him. We’d have a dance and everybody would have a good time. Gene has gone on, and Betty still lives down there.
The next place down from Gaddys, is where Betty Gaddy’s relatives, the Marks, live. Betty Gaddy’s maiden name was Marks. That is where old Scott Marks lived. The Jones settled that place and Bill Marks was the son that was there when I came here 40 years ago. He ran a couple hundred head of cows. He was a very active rancher. He passed away some time ago. His wife, Elaine is still living there. One of their two boys, Bill Junior, lives there and they are still actively running cows.
Then below them was the Balky place which was a part of the VM ranch that the Lees ran. Balkys left and the parents of Rose Cosper’s husband, Kimball and Pauline Coleman retired to the Balky place. He had been an electrician for Kennecott Copper.
Below their place was Joe Parker who lived along the river. His house has since been washed away by the flood and he passed away. He was the caretaker for the ranch just below him and took care of the few cattle they had. Future buyers, Brentano, then Patrick, did not run cattle.
The Bill Hale place was the next ranch below. Bill was a colorful old fella. A lot of stories remain about this guy. When Clell Lee was working with him they were herding cows and Clell was always curious because Bill Hale lived there and yet he didn’t have any cows. One time Clell asked him, “Mr. Bill, what do you do for a living?” And Bill didn’t hesitate. He said “I am a bank robber.” So he was a bank robber. He’d go out and rob a bank and bring the money back and live there on the Blue River. Clell said that eventually the long arm of the law caught up with him. But he lived there and worked for Clell for years. When they finally caught up to him he had been helping himself to some of the young tender steers. The cattle inspector went in and said “Bill, you have quite a bit of beef hanging up there in your cold room. I hope you have a hide to show me the brand on it so I can see where you got that beef.” Bill looked at him and said, “You know sir, that’s the first thing I eat.”
Then on down from there is where Clell and Katherine Lee lived. Clell had married Katherine. She had been married to Dewitt Cosper. And Dewitt Cosper was Rose Cosper’s father. He passed away of a heart attack when he was in his middle ‘50s. Rose then knew Clell as her primary father. She was raised with Clell, and Clell’s daughter Judy. So Rose and Judy were sort of half-sisters at the VM ranch.
The VM ranch is interesting if you are in the cow business. You know what a VM looks like and right below them was the MM ranch that came in a little later. A little quick running iron solved that problem. I’ve asked the folks that had the MM ranch, “You carry a real heavy ring that you carry on your saddle, don’t you?” That was the old running iron trick, you would take that real heavy steel ring, throw it in the fire and get it hot. They could make an MM out of that VM so quick it would make your head spin. You didn’t have to carry a branding iron. They said to me that they wouldn’t carry any heavy iron rings on their saddles. Then I said, “Well you better take that one off then.”
I need to tell you about Katherine Lee. She was a wonderful, wonderful cow puncher. Katherine was a true rancher from the very beginning to the end of her life. She was a superb woman with cattle. She was kind and gentle, she ran a good business and she was very sensitive to the handling of her livestock. She didn’t rough them up. I always admired someone like Katherine. She spent long, long days in the saddle and she took very good care of her cattle.
Below her place was a couple of places that were residential. The last ranch was later involved in a Federal land exchange and went back to the Forest Service.
And then below that place was the Oliver place. They were gone when I came.
After the Oliver place you come to the KP creek. That is where Herschel and Ramona Downs lived when I came. They had a very active cow outfit, I would say around 300 head of cattle. They had a nice place. They really ran a good outfit. They had two daughters that were good cowpunchers. I worked for Herschel for one roundup and I really admired him. He’s what you would call a real cowboy.
He had come into this country as a bronc buster and he was a bronc buster. Boy, he was tough from the toe on his boots to the feather on his hat. That man was all man. Most ranchers will gather their cattle up, and bring them down into a canyon where they have a corral, or maybe a loading chute, some cheap mechanism they’d use to work their cattle. Herschel would have none of it. He would just see the tail of a calf going through the oak brush and he’d have that rope out. It would go just like a 30-30. He could snatch those calves, grab them by the hind legs and yank them out. Then he’d say “Alright, Doc you go throw that calf quick while I got him heeled”. I’d get over there and get kicked in the teeth a time or two, a little bit of calf manure in my face, and finally get him wrestled down. Herschel would come over there and put a string on him and have him branded before you could say jack sprat.
That guy, he worked his cows out on the ground. He could stand up and take both feet and scoop up a pile of pine needles. He wouldn’t even bend over, and he would strike a match with one hand out of a book of matches and drop it on the pine needles. He’d have a fire going, then he’d strike off a couple of limbs at the bottom of a pine tree and put them on top of the pine needles. He’d get his branding iron hot, and by the time I’d gotten the rope off the calf’s neck and got straightened around, he had a red hot ring and was over there branding that calf. He was sure enough a real old time cowboy. I don’t know that you will find any one like that in this day and age.
Then below Herschel’s, the next place on the way was a big place that had been the YY ranch that belonged to the Cosper family. One of Toll’s sons operated that place. I think Toll spent a fair amount of time there with his son. Eventually they got too old. The ranch went through several hands. The Robarts owned that place once, now the Wolkins have it. They run cattle, but nothing like the Cospers had.
The next ranch was the Hugh Bars. He sort of joined up with VT where Jimmy Cosper lived. Jimmy bought the VT place from big Jimmy, which I understand, was his uncle. He married Freddy Fritz’s sister, Katie. They lived there at the VTs and raised a couple hundred head I would imagine. He raised a family, Phil and Ed Cosper. I believe that is all the family Jimmy and Katie had.
I had the opportunity to take his son, Ed back into the VT. He wanted somebody to pack him in to the VT where he had been raised as a kid. So I packed him in and we stayed there for a couple of days. He got acquainted with the ranch where he had been born and raised. It was sort of a lost generation for I had been in there 40 years ago when his dad Jimmy still lived there and ran that ranch. Jimmy didn’t seem to me to be such an old fella. To me he was just another gray-headed rancher.
And then suddenly I realized that a few years had passed me. His son Ed called me and said, “I understand you know that country and that you have the pack outfit. I’d like to hire you to take my 83 year old wife and my 83 year old self down to that country.” And I thought, “Well now just a minute, you are related to my friend Jimmy Cosper?” And he said “Yes, Jimmy Cosper is my dad”. And I said “How can you be 83 years old? I don’t recall that Jimmy was that old.” And he said “Jimmy has been gone for twenty years”. I remembered Jimmy, he was probably seventy at the time, and all of a sudden his son is 83 years old. It was a lost generation to me. I thought Jimmy was a compadre of mine.
About Jimmy, he was the best fence builder I’ve ever known. His fences still hold up down in that country. They are the toughest tightest things. You could play a fiddle song on his fences, he built them so good. He also lived down at the Hugh Bars, which actually belonged to old Dutch Fritz. Dutch Fritz had gotten it from Hugh McKeen, which is where the ranch got its name – Hugh Bars. Dutch Fritz then got into a fight with a grizzly bear and came out second best. So his son Freddie Fritz took over their cattle business. Freddie was a real fine fella. He had been an Arizona Legislator and been Speaker of the House. He was a very capable man.
Dutch Fritz and the Grizzly Bear
It had been about 1920. Freddie, Dutch’s son, would have been about 16 or 17. They were out looking for yearlings and they found some yearling cattle up this canyon, and one of them had become food for a grizzly bear. The cow dogs that were with them discovered the bear was not too far off and started barking at him. So they took out after the bear. They wanted to get rid of the bear because it was eating their cattle. So they went up on the hill and Dutch saw the bear. I’m sure he must have had a rifle, but for some reason he pulled out his 45 pistol. He shot the bear in the head thinking he had to kill it. And had the shot hit right it would have, but instead it hit him in the lower jaw and tore his lower jaw up. That sort of irritated the bear a little bit. Dutch realized he had made a mistake and he told Freddie later, “You don’t want to ever shoot a bear when you are down hill from him. Get up hill, and then if the bear is hurt bad he will probably come down hill.” Well this bear came down hill right after he shot him, and jumped on old Dutch. The bear jumped up on the horse, got Dutch and rolled him off. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had shot him in the jaw, the bear would have killed him right there. Because the bear grabbed him by the head and the bear’s upper jaw ripped into Dutch Fritz’s head pretty seriously. But with a bad jaw he was not able to close on his head. Dutch managed to get away and survive for quite awhile but eventually after months he died of his wounds. Freddie told me, “When you shoot a bear make sure you are not down hill from it because that is a big mistake.” That probably happened in the ‘20s and that was about the last of the grizzly bear business in this country. (See the Gieszl Interview).
Practicing medicine on the Blue
When we came here the idea was to slow our practice down because we had gotten so busy that my wife and I would meet in the hallway of the hospital maybe once a day. Our baby sitter was raising our kids and this just wasn’t working out. So we moved to the Blue to remedy that situation. We had three children, a girl and two boys.
The major medical disaster that occurred here was in our own family. We were driving down the Blue River road and a big bunch of deer jumped out in front of us and went uphill and kicked off a big bunch of rocks. One rock came right through the window right next to where our daughter was riding, and caused some permanent life long brain injury problems, which she still suffers today and always will.
Mostly, our medical practice has been one of interest in that it deals with people that get injured more than just necessarily get sick. We’ve had other brain injuries such as a delightful young lady came here just as an adventure to enjoy living on the Blue. She went to work down at the Joy’s ranch and was helping them pack fence posts on a horse in order to go up and build fences. One of the horses above her spooked and caused the one that was carrying the fence posts to run off and run into her horse. She subsequently got dumped off the side of the steep canyon. She went down and sustained a very serious head injury. I saw her and at the time she was very seriously brain damaged and was airlifted to Barrows Neurological Hospital where she did not survive. That was another very difficult situation that we had.
We have had a fair number of people come in and have heart attacks. Fay Moore unfortunately had a serious heart attack while down here on the Blue. The problems you encounter in older people developing malignancies have been a problem. One of which took my good friend Clell Lee. When he was in his middle ‘70s he came into my office there at the ranch. I knew he had this tumor but he was living with it. He came over in the final stages and he told me, as a good bear hunter would tell you, he said, “Well I believe they’ve got me treed, Doc. This is it. I got off my horse to open up a gate and I just couldn’t get back on. I had to walk back to camp”. And I said “What do you want to do? We can take you to the hospital and get you some help”. He said, “No I’m going to finish up right here. This is where I’ve lived. You just leave me here alone, come over and visit me when you have the time”. After a few days his wife and daughter Rose came to see him. They said “Well Dad, why don’t you come down to the ranch?” They took him home and in a couple of days he was gone. That was kind of a tough time.
We’ve gone to get hunters back in the hills that managed to stick their leg underneath a rock or slipped into a rocky hole and broke a leg. One fella managed to shoot himself in the knee with his 38 revolver. He was riding with his revolver loaded to the gills going through the oak brush. That brush cocked and shot his revolver and he shot himself in the knee permanently destroying it.
For more on Sam Luce’s life, read Maverick Doc, by Ann Leonard, available at the Alpine Public Library.